After the Fact
by PaperbackWriter
Summary: PostHogwarts fic, written previous to HBP. Explores the relationship between Harry and Ginny as they mature. The rest of the Weasleys are involved as well, so have a read. FINISHED.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I have edited the story very slightly for typos and such and have squashed a couple of chapters together, but the story is just the same as it was before, in case you read it then. So here it is:

* * *

The sun shone very brightly on the large grass field on which Ginny Weasley sat, watching three of her brothers and Harry Potter practice Quidditch high above her. Ginny felt the sun blazing on the top of her head, and had to squint and use her hand to shield her eyes every time she looked up at the boys. She was gradually becoming very irritated at the hot sun, as it was giving her a headache, so she turned to her companion for a distraction. 

"Unusual weather we're having, isn't it?" Ginny commented to her sister-in-law and good friend, Hermione (Granger) Weasley.

"Very," answered Hermione. "I don't suppose you've any pumpkin juice? I'd really like a cold glass right now." Ginny said, "Stay here, I'll go check." She pulled herself to her feet and ambled across the lawn, into her parents' house, where she was visiting from her own London flat for the evening to have supper. She slid open the rickety screen door and entered the heavy, woody air of the Burrow's parlor. Her mother could be heard preparing dinner in the next room. Ginny entered the kitchen to find her mother stirring a sauce with her wand and tuning the WWN. Ginny waited until a big band could be heard clearly on the radio, then turned to her mother, who was now directing her attention to some chives.

"Is there any pumpkin juice, Mum?"

"Yes, dear, Daddy's just bought a case for the party."

This evening's dinner was in celebration of Ginny's brother Charlie's engagement to a Romanian girl he had met at an international dragon-care summit. They were now both working on the reserve in Romania. Ginny had only seen her once, but had liked her very much. Apparently, so had Charlie.

Ginny found the crate in the pantry and extracted two bottles from it.

"Hamrog's Best?" said Hermione incredulously when Ginny handed her the juice five minutes later. "I've seen this advertised: 'Just one sip, and you'll know it's Hamrog's.' What a cauldron!" She screwed off the cap and took a swig. "Aaaurgh! Ginny, it's warm!"

"Then why'd you drink it? Right, sorry," Ginny amended as she pulled out her wand and tapped the bottles, feeling hers instantly chill. "Thanks," said Hermione.

"BLAGGING! BLAGGING! FOUL!" screamed a voice from about 10 meters above them. "Fred, let go of MY BROOM!" Ginny now discovered that it was Ron who was yelling, and the reason: Ron was holding the Quaffle (transfigured from an apple by Harry), but just barely. Fred had seized the tail of Ron's broom and was slowly tugging Ron backwards, trying to prevent him from scoring. George was cackling madly a little closer to the ground, and Harry was trying to suppress his own laughter, out of respect for Ron.

"Only having a bit of fun, brother!" Shouted Fred, ducking Ron's flailing arms (he had long since dropped the Quaffle, allowing George to score several times.

Ginny and Hermione giggled wildly at the spectacle as George and Harry drifted down towards them and dismounted, leaving Fred to tow Ron's broom backwards with increased velocity as Ron yelled louder and louder.

"Gin, where'd you get the pumpkin juice?" asked George as he stood above her, leaning on his broomstick. "I fancy a nice, cold bottle myself."

"Go get it, then," replied Ginny. "In the pantry. Whole new case."

"Want one too, Harry?" asked George.

"Definitely." George grimaced at them in concentration and disappeared with a loud CRACK.

"Still showing off, that one," sighed Harry, plopping down on the grass on Ginny's left. At 24, the twins were just as flamboyant, eccentric and clever as they had always been, and now they were also very handsome and successful. This meant that every time Harry saw the twins, they had new robes and new girlfriends.

To say that the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes were popular was a huge understatement. Every young witch and wizard in the country consumed heir products, and the twins had shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade (giving Zonko's a run for their money, to be sure), and had sold franchises in Paris, New York, and most recently, Singapore. The Burrow had been somewhat refurbished since the twins' success: the windows had all been replaced; the old floors pulled up and new ones lain; the kitchen re-done to Mrs. Weasley's specifications; and, to everyone's delight, the ghoul in the attic banished.

Indeed, all the Weasleys had grown up. After the Ministry's initial confirmation that Voldemort had regained power, Percy had apologized to his parents, saying that he had been selfish and blind, wanting only to further his own career, and that he should have trusted his own parents above all. So Percy had been admitted to the family once more (though the twins never really forgave him), and had soon married his old Hogwarts sweetheart, Penny Clearwater. He again earned his parents' good graces by presenting them with their first grandchild, a boy named Corinthus who was four now. Ginny very well remembered the day in her seventh year that Harry, visiting Dumbledore on some errand for his Auror training, had told her that she was an aunt. She was very pleased, although she considered the choice of names somewhat questionable. She had been upset hat they hadn't owled her sooner: Did they really need someone to deliver the message on foot? But Harry told her that Corinthus had only been born the previous night, and as Harry had business at Hogwarts anyway, he thought it would be nice if he told her. In all actuality, Harry had just wanted to visit Ginny, to see her familiar bright red hair and watch her pretty, freckled face break into a smile when he told her the news. It was not customary for family or friends to visit Hogwarts students during the year (except for school breaks), and Harry had really missed his best mate's baby sister. Harry had not realized it then, but he was in love with Ginny Weasley.

Now, however, as Harry sat on the lush grass, watching with detached interest as Ron broke free of Fred and proceeded to run him down on foot, he was acutely aware of his affection for Ginny. He surreptitiously glanced to his right at the young woman, who at that moment was snorting with laughter as Ron made to pummel Fred "Muggle-style".

Hermione called out, "Ronald! Just drop it, dear, it's not worth going to Azkaban for!" To which Ron replied "Oh yes, it is, 'Mione!" And just as Harry became concerned with Fred's welfare, Fred disappeared from Ron's headlock with a POP.

"Well, Fred," shouted Ron toward the house, "I'll see you again at dinner, and when I do…"

"Oh, Ron," sighed Hermione dramatically.

* * *

"So, Harry, have you given any more thought to continuing you career as an Auror?" asked Percy from the end of the table, chewing noisily as he spoke and shoveling mashed potatoes onto his son's plate. Penelope looked up quickly, and then looked apologetically toward Mrs. Weasley, then Hermione and Ginny, as if to say _I'm so sorry my husband's an insensitive git_. Most of the family knew that Harry had recently made the unpopular decision not to be an Auror, and was still a little touchy about it. 

"Actually, Percy, I've decided that I don't want to do it. I mean," Harry paused and set his fork down, "training was really interesting, and I'm glad I qualified, but…I've really had enough of fighting Dark Wizards, I think."

Molly, who was sitting next to Harry, took his hand in hers and cooed a little in a motherly way. Mrs. Weasley was remembering, of course, Harry's defeat of Lord Voldemort. Thanks to the Order of the Phoenix displaying 'constant vigilance', threats toward Muggles and Wizards alike were quashed quickly and safely. As was predicted, the Death Eaters who had been captured after the Battle at the Ministry escaped from Azkaban. However, several of Voldemort's chief followers were detained from him long enough for the Order to formulate a plan. Under Dumbledore's instruction, several members of the Order of the Phoenix (all of whom were Ministry Aurors) launched a surprise attack on Voldemort at his old hideout, the Riddle House. He was nearly caught unawares, since his primary sources for information, his Death Eaters, were cut off from him. Unfortunately, being a very powerful wizard, he sensed that the attack was coming. He was able to rally a fairly large group of his supporters to fight the Order. A long battle ensued: almost the entire Order of the Phoenix showed up to fight, so that several very powerful witches and wizards effectively weakened the Dark Lord, allowing Harry to deliver the final blow. The power of this curse alone almost killed Harry, who spent a week unconscious at St. Mungo's and three weeks after that recuperating.

Under Dumbledore's orders, no one was to seek out a Death Eater. He was quite aware of the sincere wish of many in the Order to cause Bellatrix Lestrange immense suffering, but also understood that they would need all their available power concentrated on Voldemort himself. Bellatrix was now in a cell in Azkaban, accompanied by every other Death Eater the Ministry was able to capture.

All in all, the toll of the Second War was much less than that of the First. Few members of the Order died. Those who did were part of Harry's advance guard, and were top Aurors. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emmeline Vance, and Alastor Moody bravely died fighting for Harry.

Reviewing all this in her mind, Mrs. Weasley felt a great surge of affection for the young man sitting beside her. _Poor boy. Robbed of a childhood, expected to save the whole world at the age of seventeen. No wonder he doesn't want to do it anymore._

Harry's thoughts, however, were quite far removed from Mrs. Weasley's. He was happily engrossed in a conversation about Quidditch, debating the pros and cons of the Porskoff Ploy with Charlie.

"You can't possibly say that it's fool-proof," Harry said.

"Well, no, of course not, but it is usually very effective."

"Usually? Only if the opposing chaser is blind with very slippery hands and is on an old Oakshaft 79."

At this, Charlie gave Harry an incredulous look and spooned some more peas onto his plate.

"Right, then," said Mr. Weasley loudly as he stood up and raised his glass of butterbeer high. "A toast! To Charlie and Camelia…" There was a pause as Mr. Weasley groped around wildly for something to say. "…May their children not look like…dragons!"

Charlie looked very puzzled at this, but stood up and put his arm around his fiancée as everyone around the table lifted their glasses.

At about ten o' clock, Bill, Fleur (they were engaged three years ago, but neither had much drive to actually get married), and Ginny finished the dishes and joined the rest of the family in the parlor, where Mr. Weasley was dozing in a large, magenta armchair; Fred, George, Charlie, Camelia, Penelope and Percy were squeezed onto the sofa; Mrs. Weasley sat in another armchair knitting; Corinthus was perched on an ottoman; Ron and Hermione lay on the rug beside the fire, and Harry stood by the bookshelf, skimming through one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books with a bemused expression set on his face. Ginny came up and stood beside him.

"Reliving fond memories of old Gilderoy?" She teased.

"Afraid not, Gin. Though I've been thinking about anonymously sending a dozen roses to St. Mungo's for him. Think how happy he would be if he thought he had a secret admirer!"

"That's cruel, Harry. Completely unethical."

"I guess. But it would be fun, wouldn't it?" He said, winking at Ginny.

As there were no more seats in the living room (Bill and Fleur had gone back to the kitchen as a result), Harry pulled out his wand and conjured two puffy chairs. They landed with a thud and he and Ginny sank into them.

"You're getting quite good at this, you know, Harry," said Ginny approvingly. "They get more and more comfortable every time."

"Harry, don't look too pleased with yourself, now. They're only chairs," said George helpfully as he and Fred stood up to leave.

"Well, sorry to depart so suddenly like this, but we've got some work to finish at the labs, and -"

"It's ten-thirty!" Exclaimed Ron from the rug.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again," began Fred. "Time is Galleons! And don't forget, we're very busy wizards, Ron." And with that, the twins waved quickly at various people around the room, told Mrs. Weasley that they'd owl her soon, and Disapparated.

"Workaholics," muttered Ron. "Completely barmy! Why would anyone want to work after hours, no matter how much fun their job is?"

This obviously offended Percy, who declared, "Actually, I think it shows some real commitment on their part. Anyway, we'll be off too. Corinthus doesn't usually stay awake this late." Percy hoisted himself off the sofa, gave his mother a peck on the cheek, said to his father, "I'll see you at work tomorrow, Dad," and threw some floo powder into the fire. Still holding Corinthus, he stepped into the fireplace and said clearly: 'Weasley-Clearwater Residence' and the two of them disappeared in a whirl of green flame. Penny then got up, said her good-byes to everyone, and did the same.

By eleven o' clock, only Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Ron were left downstairs after everyone else went home and to bed.

"Now that it's just us," Hermione said quietly, "Ron and I have news."

Harry glanced at Ginny, who glanced back: they'd seen this coming a mile away.

"Ron and I are…expecting a baby." She finished awkwardly.

Ginny made a big show of looking surprised, Harry gave Ron a big back-patting man-hug and after a last cup of tea, Ron and Hermione Disapparated home.

"Well, I can't say I'm shocked by the news," said Ginny, sitting in her father's favorite magenta armchair. Harry nodded. He suddenly became aware that most of the Weasley children were married, engaged to be married, or were at least in long-term relationships that looked as though they might constitute a marriage. Even Fred, who was really quite a playboy, had been seeing Angelina Johnson for almost a year.

Harry thought about how many Wizards married people they had dated in school. When Hermione and Ron had announced their engagement, Hermione's parents had been invited to the Burrow for a celebratory dinner like the one they had had tonight. Mr. Granger was puzzled by his daughter's choice to marry so young (she was only twenty at the time), so Harry had explained a theory that he had held for some time, to the effect that Wizards generally married earlier than Muggles, were very likely to marry school friends or sweethearts, and stayed married for longer (Not only did Wizards seldom divorce, they also lived longer than Muggles). The thought that Hermione would probably not divorce Ron held some consolation for the Grangers, and by the time the wedding rolled around, they were no longer concerned about their daughter marrying in a hurry or the wrong person.

Actually, thought Harry, that match has turned out quite well. Ron and Hermione were very happy together. They did argue fairly often, but Harry thought that maybe the only reason was so that they could make up later.

As Harry sat in the firelight thinking thoughts of love, Ginny was wrestling with her own decisions. _That chamomile conditioner made my hair really soft, but the lilac smells so much better…_


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Harry saw Ginny, it was in London. It was just after noon on a Thursday, a week after Charlie's party, and Harry had decided to come up to Diagon Alley for some shopping. Ginny had gotten off work at a decent hour for the first time in about two years. To celebrate her lunch hour being appropriately placed during lunchtime, she thought she'd take herself out to a café somewhere close by.

As she heaved open the door of her office building (Ginny was lucky to have Weasleys for brothers and Harry Potter for a friend. The boys had pulled some strings and gotten her a nice placement at Whizz Hard Books as a junior editor), Ginny felt a rush of cold wind. _I knew that beautiful weather couldn't possibly hold_, she thought glumly. Ginny started down the cobblestone street, trying to decide which restaurant to patronize. Another great gust came up and she felt the hem of her skirt lift slightly. She groped for her skirt so as not to expose herself, but as she did this she was forced to loosen her grip on her portfolio. Weeks' worth of Ginny's hard work flapped away on an updraft and landed ten feet away in a flowerbed.

Ginny rushed after the renegade portfolio. As she approached the planter, she saw a hand stretch out and grasp her folder. She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped as her eyes followed the large hand up to wide shoulders, then up to a very familiar face.

"Harry! Fancy seeing you here!" Ginny hadn't meant to sound so…_dowdy_, but Harry didn't notice. He was grinning widely at her now, and the hand that held the portfolio was outstretched.

"You want to be careful with this, Miss Weasley. It's a beautiful piece. Genuine leather, I'd say."

Ginny took the folder from him and explained that there had been a freak wind and that she had had to choose between her decency and her career.

"Speaking of your fruitful career -" he said with a wry grin.

"You're one to talk," Ginny interrupted moodily. "You're unemployed! Remember, Harry, people in glass houses shouldn't beat Bludgers."

"Anyway," he said as they began walking toward Gringotts. "I've never known you to have a lunch hour free. Mr. Higgs keeps a rather short leash on you, I had thought."

"That's very true. We held a publishing party last night for a new poisonous plant guidebook, though that's not to say that I was invited. I can't remember the title, but it's old Arsenius Jigger writing again. Anyway, things are always a little bit slower the day after a big party. You know how it is, everyone recovering from all the butterbeer and firewhisky. And since it's such a small company, practically everyone's called in sick. So I guess we've given up for today. Magnus is giving me a small rest."

Magnus Higgs was Ginny's boss. He had been working at Whizz Hard Books since its inception in 1894. At the time, he was a teenager laboring on the actual presses. In the century since then, he had crawled up the career ladder and now held half the shares of the company. Mr. Higgs especially liked Ginny, whom he called Miss Weasley, or, if he was in a very good mood, Ginevra. Although Mr. Higgs respected Ginny, he considered her method of promotion highly corrupt. Because he had pulled himself up by his bootstraps, as it were, he resented Ginny's "connections". At 21, he had been slaving at the old-fashioned presses in the heat, rather than inhabiting a comfortable office with a dragon hide swivel chair ("And she's got windows, too!" He had reported to Mr. Weasley). So Ginny tried not to complain that he rarely gave her lunch breaks or holidays.

The two stopped outside La Sorciére Vieille.

"This place has a great mixed salad," said Harry nervously.

"Sounds great," Ginny said, wondering for what reason Harry could be nervous about lunch.

They had a seat and a waiter gave them menus.

"Flobberworms?" Said Ginny after looking it over, obviously disgusted beyond imagination.

"Yeah, it's a French specialty," Harry said, chuckling. "They're really not that bad, you know."

Ginny looked up from her menu to check if he was joking, and sure enough, he was. She kicked him playfully under the table and decided on the mixed salad.

The waiter came back, and Harry ordered for them. _How…manly_, Ginny thought. _The picture of etiquette._

The two talked lightly about the Weasley clan, about the joke shop and about Neville's new nursery (Longbottom's Potted Plants- If I Break a Flowerpot During Your Visit, You Get the Garden Flower of Your Choice, Free!)

After the salads had been devoured, the couple sat in silence, waiting for the bill.

"Gin, I'm really glad I ran into you," Harry blurted after a few minutes. He was suddenly looking ill-at-ease and was shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, me too, Harry. It was a good time." She smiled slightly.

"The thing is, Ginny," He was positively green now, "I'm really glad I got to see you, because I have a…proposition."

"Harry, are you okay?" Ginny asked as she poured him another glass of water.

"Well, I would be a lot better…if you would agree to…come to dinner and a concert with me on Saturday night." He finally exhaled and was rapidly turning very pink.

_I thought he was going to tell me that he had a horrible flesh-eating parasite in his intestines and was painfully dying. Why would he be so nervous about a date? A date? A date? Did he just ask me on a date?_

"You mean, like, as a date?" Ginny ultimately vocalized, frowning curiously.

_Why is she frowning? Harry thought, getting panicky. Oh, Merlin! Why is she frowning? What have I done? Well, now I have to answer. There's nothing for it. Here I go._

"Well…yeah."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. I'd like that," Ginny nodded and smiled. _Wait a second. Would I like that? Oh well. Can't back out of it now._

"Sir, Madam, thank you for dining. Please come back again," the waiter had showed up in the middle of what might have been a very loud silence. Harry paid for lunch and collected his things. He turned to leave but stopped, waiting for Ginny. As one of his arms was awkwardly bent with his hand on his hip, she put her arm through his and they exited the café. They walked in near silence with arms clasped until they reached number 129, Whizz Hard Books.

Harry said, "I'll come to your flat at eight. The concert starts at eight-thirty."

"Wait, who's playing?" Ginny asked, expecting Harry to say it was Celestina Warbeck or some other crooning lump that her mum listened to. Instead, Harry told her that he had a VIP pass to the Weird Sisters concert.

"Harry! How'd you get one of those?" Ginny was so pleased all of a sudden that Harry gained a little of his nerve back and said haughtily, "By being the Boy Who Lived, of course."

He had become so cocky, in fact, that he leaned in to Ginny and kissed her cheek. He stood back again, smiling at her. She returned the smile and watched him walk off to do his shopping, a spring in his step quite visible.

Ginny was somewhat flustered after the episode, and had a rather difficult time concentrating on her work. Mr. Higgs poked his head into her office just before three o' clock and was startled to find her giggling as she researched current Ministry copyright laws.


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks later, Harry was back at the Burrow. He and Ginny had gone on three dates already: After the Weird Sisters concert, he took her out for Ethiopian food ("Sure, Harry, it's great. I really like yams, I promise"), and most recently, dancing. He was very happy to have someone to take to all these events, and Ginny was very happy to go. As it happened, Harry was quite a gentleman, a moderately capable dancer, and a good judge of cuisine. All in all, he was very pleased with how things were going, even if there were some uncomfortable incidents (He discovered, one night, that they often mixed signals. He sometimes tried to kiss her on the mouth and ended up on her eye or nose or ear). But Harry was confident that they would pass this shy, awkward stage and in due course be quite happy together.

"Harry," Hermione prodded him out of his thoughts. "What are you doing? Do you need something to drink? You've been staring at the cupboard for a long time."

"I'm just thinking, 'Mione."

"Well, it's a shame she pulled you out of that, then, seeing as how you might never do it again," said Fred, feigning concern.

The three of them were sitting around the kitchen table at about five in the afternoon. Mrs. Weasley was pulling out thick cookbooks (Harry thought that perhaps she was going to try and impress Dumbledore or Lupin, as they were going to attend tonight). Ron had disappeared upstairs, George was in the next room playing with fire, and nobody else had showed up yet.

Mrs. Weasley held these family dinners every few weeks. Harry thought that she must be a little lonely, what with all her children grown up and moved out. She had begun to volunteer at the local Muggle charity shop. The women there were amazed at how fast Mrs. Weasley churned out knit items. When she came in with twenty hats one week, they gave her some very curious looks and, cottoning on, she decided that she should probably take it down a notch.

A whoop came from the living room, where George was seated on the floor, experimenting with some new affordably-priced, water-proof fireworks that were about to be released. He had obviously lit one, and it zoomed around the room, emitting horrible screeches before George opened the front door and let it out.

"WILL YOU PACK IT IN?" shrieked Molly, dropping one of the heavy recipe books on her foot in surprise. She groaned and sat down at the table as Fred hopped down to get the book.

"I cannot believe that you've been given a license to perform magic! I just don't believe it! George, don't bring those things into my house. You can leave the loud, dangerous ones at home."

After the commotion had died down, Harry asked, "What's Ron doing?" Fred answered, "He's plotting his revenge for my Quidditch foul. Remember, he said he was going to maim me? I think he forgot when dinner was served. You know how he is around food. A roast beef can really clear his mind of troubles."

Hermione giggled at this. "It's true. All I have to do to make him happy is feed him, bathe him, and put him to bed."

At that moment, Fleur Apparated right next to the stove.

"Sorry, Molly, I 'ave poor aim. I meant to land on ze doorstep."

Outside, they heard Bill do just that. He ducked the rogue fireworks that were still soaring around the house and ran inside.

"Fred, George, is that one of your creations?" His deep voice resonated throughout the front room. "Really nice use of color, boys. How much is one of those?"

"Three sickles," said George proudly.

"Bill, if you buy one of those from your brothers, I will disown you," threatened Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum, I never buy anything from them." He paused. "They just give things to me for free!" Bill was in the kitchen now. He nodded his acknowledgement to Fred and Harry, put his hand on Hermione's shoulder and sat down next to her at the table.

"Molly, what can I do to help?" Harry asked. Honestly, he didn't want to peel potatoes, but he felt that with her recent foot injury, he should help her.

"Oh, you're such a dear. The potatoes need peeling. Just charm them if you would. And Fred, maybe you could see what there is to drink."

Smiling to himself because he had correctly guessed the chore assigned to him, Harry rolled up his sleeves and went into the pantry, where a large sack of potatoes was leaned against a bottom shelf. He heaved the bag into the kitchen and pulled out his wand. Pointing at the sack, he muttered 'Wingardium Leviosa' and several potatoes rose out of the bag and floated to the sink. He then located the peeler and set it to working on the tubers as he came over and stood by Mrs. Weasley.

Looking around the table at the family, Harry felt euphoric. He then remembered that tonight, he would tell them that he was romantically involved with their little sister and youngest child. His stomach did a little flip-flop and he looked away from the table.

By seven-thirty, everyone had arrived (except Charlie and Camelia, who were back at work in Romania). As it was early spring and therefore quite windy, everyone was crammed inside the kitchen, all seated around the large table except Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, who were serving.

Dumbledore was wearing pale green robes and looking quite spry. At more than one-hundred-fifty years old, he was still moving quite freely and hadn't shown many signs of aging since the Second War ended. Next to him, on the other hand, Remus Lupin sat wearing his usual tatty robes of gray and looking very old indeed, thought he must have been a century younger than Dumbledore.

"Arthur, Molly, I'm glad you invited me," Dumbledore scooted his seat a little closer to the table and took a deep breath. "I wanted to tell the family: Next year will be my last at Hogwarts." There was a small gasp heard around the table. "I'm a very old man, and I no longer wish to be burdened with the maintenance of the school. Minerva will instead take my place as Head."

Percy was the first person to talk after a few tacit seconds. "I had hoped to send my son there under your tutelage, sir." He finished and looked around expectantly.

"Percy, I can assure you that Minerva McGonagall is most qualified for the job," he said, smiling.

"In any case, it'll leave me more free time to write a book or find a cure for werewolfism." At this, he looked over at Hermione, who flashed a grin back at him. Hermione had been working for a private pharmaceutical laboratory and was deeply involved in the search for a cure. Recently, a senior colleague had made a breakthrough and discovered that a simple combination of wolfs' bane, powdered dragon scales and lacewings had excellent results in preventing symptoms from appearing, so that during a full moon, test participants did not transform. There were, however, some side-effects from the wolfs' bane, and extreme irritability occurred instead of the transformation, but research was definitely going in the right direction.

Lupin glanced up and said proudly to Hermione, "You always were the cleverest witch in your year."

Suddenly, Fred hiccoughed and fell backward in his chair, hitting the floor hard. He kept hiccoughing as his brothers helped him back onto his feet. No sooner had Fred huffily plopped into his seat, than he shot back out of it, howling.

"RON!" He bellowed, his face red and his eyes narrowed. "WHAT -hic- HAVE YOU DONE TO MY -hic- BUTTERBEER?"

Ron tried to look innocent, but as soon as Fred had scuttled off to the bathroom to fix whatever problem he was having sitting down, he broke out laughing.

"What did you do to your poor brother?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Just a little something I like to call 'payback'," he said smugly.

George watched Ron lean back from the table. He was frowning severely and looked angrier than Harry had seen him in a long time. Harry knew that George would get retribution for Fred. The twins always stuck together, and this would be no exception. He just hoped that they wouldn't be throwing punches.

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley finished serving the soup and took their seats. Harry couldn't help but beam when Ginny sat down next to him and winked before tucking into her soup. Harry continued grinning madly at his soup while Mr. Weasley and Percy talked about work and Bill and Lupin talked about the most effective method of freezing Ashwinder eggs. This sudden exhilaration on the part of Harry was not lost on Hermione, who raised an eyebrow at Ginny and gave her a quizzical look.

"So," Hermione was speaking rather loudly and staring at Ginny, "Harry tells me that the two of you went to the Weird Sisters concert a couple of weeks ago. That must have been fun."

Ginny rolled her eyes and responded, "Yes, he had VIP passes. We got to meet the band. It was great."

"I didn't know that you two were such good friends. Do you see each other often?" Inquired Mrs. Weasley. Harry choked on a piece of roll at this moment, making everyone at the table except Corinthus stare at him. He wiped his mouth as he turned red.

"Yeah, Mum, we've seen a lot of each other recently. We've been dating, actually," pronounced Ginny fearlessly.

A full minute of silence ensued, the only sound that of Corinthus humming tunelessly and spoons clinking a little as the relations dropped them into their soup.

Again, the first one to speak was Percy. "Well, Ginny, I think you've made a very good choice. I couldn't stand some of the other characters you've dated," he concluded.

The audacity of this statement caused Ginny, Harry, Bill, Lupin and Hermione to burst out laughing, and the others soon followed, even Corinthus, who obviously had no inkling as to what was going on, but liked to laugh anyway. Only Percy was left, frowning perplexedly. "What? What did I say?" He kept asking.

"Hey, congratulations to the both of you," said Bill, chuckling merrily and raising his glass. "Cheers."

The rest of the evening progressed much as it had at the previous dinner three weeks ago. Percy and Penelope were the first to leave because they had a four-year-old to put to bed. Dumbledore stayed for some conversation but soon said that he, too, needed to retire. Mrs. Weasley was again knitting in a large chair, while Bill talked to his father about the curses his team was now trying to crack in a remote part of China (Bill had kept the desk job he had had while working for the Order of the Phoenix). Fred had returned from the bathroom after about forty-five minutes. He was now perched self-consciously on the edge of the sofa, conferring with George in undertones and glowering at Ron, who was asleep in Mr. Weasley's big magenta armchair. After Lupin said he'd better get going, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went up to bed, and Bill and Fleur went home. The twins had been waiting for this chance all night. George sprang off the sofa and flopped onto Ron, who was very rudely awakened when he felt George's hands around his neck. Fred pulled out his wand and lifted it into the air. Hermione was on her feet, pulling out her own and aiming at Fred. Ginny gripped Hermione's arm and Harry cringed and shrunk into his seat.

For a split second the room remained in this condition, before Ron broke free of George's stranglehold and slumped onto the floor in front of Fred. Ron got onto his knees and eyed Fred's wand as it pointed to his chest. He heard George creeping up behind him and thought immediately of the one thing that might save him…

"If you kill me now, my child will grow up fatherless!" He moaned melodramatically.

"Shut up, Ron, we're not going to kill you. Just hex you a little- WAIT! Are you saying what I think you're saying, little brother?" Said Fred, instantly lowering his wand and grinning at George.

"Why, yes, Fred, I do believe I am," Ron confirmed, visibly relaxing at the thought that he wouldn't be blown to pieces.

The twins were very pleased at the news, though Hermione was a little miffed ("We haven't even told your parents yet"). After about fifteen minutes of pleasant baby-related chatting, the twins departed, saying that they had another party to attend. Ginny then rounded up some more pumpkin juice and the four sat in the calm firelight, sipping juice without speaking. Ron quickly dropped off to sleep, and Hermione, cuddling next to him, soon did the same.

After a few more minutes Harry heard Ron's snores and glanced at Ginny, smiling. She got up and crept over to where he was, boldly sitting down on his lap. It was enough to make him blush and spill pumpkin juice all over himself. She giggled at this and dropped a kiss on his nose. He kissed her back on the lips, putting his hands on her waist. Just as Ginny deepened the kiss, running her tongue along Harry's lower lip, Ron let out a very loud fart from across the room. Ginny burst out laughing and rolled off Harry. He, too, couldn't help but give a great guffaw, which woke Hermione and Ron.

"What are you laughing at?" Ron asked petulantly.

"Nothing," Harry and Ginny said together.

"We were just leaving," Harry added to cover up the odd hush in the room. "Can I walk you home, Ginny?"

"That would be lovely," she responded.

"Prophet Road?" He said. She nodded, and with a POP she was gone. Harry said goodnight to Ron and Hermione and in a moment had also Disapparated.

They had agreed to meet at the beginning of the road where Ginny lived. Prophet Road was incidentally not where the Daily Prophet was printed, but rather a young neighborhood in Wizard London (the people were young, not the buildings). A flat there was fairly sought after, and Ginny had again relied on her family's connections to get her a nice placement. Her rent was moderately affordable, so she didn't have to take a flat mate. She lived in building #87, and the two had Apparated right in front of number three.

One of Harry's favorite activities was walking, and he especially liked the conversation that accompanied his walks with Ginny. On the night of the Weird Sisters concert, for instance, they had discussed foreign Muggle politics and unicorn protection laws. The last time he had seen her, they had a lively debate over whether or not Fizzing Whizbees contained ground billywig stings.

Harry bashfully took Ginny's hand and she flashed him an enormous grin. They continued to meander down the street, talking now about Quidditch fouls, now about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Ginny was beginning to think that, just maybe, this crazy scheme might work out. She and Harry got along marvelously; he was reasonably attractive (if rather pale and peaky), with good hygiene; and was capable of magnificent conversation. Of course, Ginny had always known these facts, but had been very worried that Harry would not act like himself if they became amorously involved. Her apprehension turned out to be baseless. Things were going so well, in fact, that when at length they arrived on Ginny's doorstep, she invited him upstairs, and he obliged eagerly.


	4. Chapter 4

Ginny Weasley was madly in love. She gazed dreamily out the window of her office, her large brown eyes fixed on the brownstone face of the building across the way and her eyelids drooping. Several pages of a manuscript were spread around her desk, waiting to be corrected. Ginny had indeed been having a very challenging time trying to work. Every time she opened her inkpot, the silky blackness of the ink reminded her of Harry's hair. The feathers at the top of her quill were the exact color of his eyes. Unluckily, the manuscript she was now trying to read through was a history of the events and battles of the Second War; unsurprisingly, that had Ginny stumbling through memory lane.

Whilst she was recalling the weeks Harry had spent in hospital after Voldemort's fall, she heard a knock on her door. Roused out of her reverie, she quickly picked up her quill, dipped it in the inkpot, and said "Come in."

Somewhat disappointingly, it was Mr. Higgs.

"Ah, Ginevra. I see you're hard at work on that one. Well, it's a subject on which you're an expert, isn't it?" He smiled. Ginny felt a pang of guilt, but smiled back.

"Yes, sir. I'll have it on your desk by tomorrow morning." It was earlier than he had asked, but she felt slightly remorseful about daydreaming so much, and knew that once she got to it, it would be easy.

"Ginevra, tomorrow afternoon I'm calling a meeting in the conference room," Mr. Higgs said quietly.

"May I ask why?"

"I'm hiring a sales analyst. I think it will help the company decide better what it prints." He looked a little guilty, and Ginny wondered why.

After a couple seconds, during which the two smiled congenially at each other, Mr. Higgs said, "Good day, Miss Weasley," and staggered out the door.

"Miss Weasley," thought Ginny and chuckled. She was again distracted from her work as she remembered the events of yesterday evening.

Harry had taken her to a nicer restaurant than the ones they normally haunted. He was wearing a sport coat and had obviously made a great effort at getting his hair to lie flat. He had come to the door with a large bouquet of flowers that Ginny was almost certain he had obtained from Neville.

As they ate dinner, Ginny noticed that Harry was acting peculiarly; he was staring at her and they spoke much less than usual. The fact that Harry wasn't moping or frowning was of some comfort to Ginny, who began to suspect something of him.

When they were taking their normal walk back to Ginny's flat (it was their preferred meeting place, as Harry's was rather draughty and empty), he suggested that they have a seat in the park. It wasn't quite dark yet, so Ginny accommodated his wishes, though with a strong sense of foreboding.

And as they were sitting on a bench under a chestnut tree, watching the dusky sky, Harry asked Ginny to marry him.

She was surprised, but later on, it made perfect sense. They had been dating for just over six months now, and Harry had told her on more than one occasion that he was very serious about her. The combination of these, and the way he was behaving that night might have hinted to Ginny that he would propose, but she hadn't really been thinking along those lines.

Ginny finished checking the manuscript by six o' clock. She pulled out her wand and waved it over the page. Instantly, all the errors fixed themselves and Ginny's ink marks disappeared. She cleaned up her desk, grabbed the stack of papers and her cloak, and left the office. She dropped off the amended manuscript on Mr. Higgs' desk before going home to her fiancé.

The next day at three o' clock Ginny arrived in the conference room. She had brought her portfolio with her, as she expected to get another book to read over. She put her things on the table and took off her robes. Five of her colleagues were already there, which left only two: Mr. Higgs and the new employee (obviously, Whizz Hard Books was quite a small firm).

Ginny was having a quiet conversation with Faustus Hopper, the benign old warlock who worked the presses, when Magnus Higgs entered the room, followed by a tall young man with dark features and a large nose. Everyone's eyes followed the two to their chairs. Ginny observed the young man as he took some business cards out of his well-tailored robes. He suddenly looked up directly at her; she looked away promptly but felt her face go red.

"Alright, everyone. I am pleased to introduce Nigel Singh. I've already told all of you that Mr. Singh is here temporarily to asses our sales and possibly concentrate our efforts on one genre. He has come to us from Obscurus Books, which has since seen great improvements in sales." Titters were heard all around the table (Obscurus Books had never done very well, unfortunately).

"If you will, Mr. Singh, tell us a little about yourself," Magnus said.

Nigel Singh proceeded to talk about his published books, his history as a sale analyst, and lastly, his preference for nougat, which he seemed to think was funny, but which made no one laugh. He looked hopefully at Ginny, who smiled amiably at him.

The meeting progressed normally. Ginny was given a special project. It was an autobiography written by a Mermaid chief that was expected to sell huge numbers. Just as she and Mr. Higgs were discussing a deadline, a large barn owl swooped in through the open window and landed on top of Ginny's things. The owl was quite agitated and was pecking at Ginny's arm, so she unhooked the letter from its leg and unrolled it. It said:

'Ginny, Hermione having baby very soon. Please come to St. Mungo's. Healers won't let me in delivery room.

Love, Ron'

"Oh! Mr. Higgs, my sister-in-law's having a baby. Do you think I could-"

"Certainly, Miss Weasley. Take the rest of the day off. We'll decide on the deadline tomorrow."

"Thanks so much!" she breathed as she snatched up her things and caught sight of Nigel Singh winking and giving her a thumbs up before she hurriedly Disapparated.

Forty-five minutes after she had arrived at St. Mungo's, Ginny sat upstairs in a waiting room, surrounded by the excited relations of whoever was giving birth that afternoon. A middle-aged couple was sitting next to a pudgy man who appeared to be their son; three witches in their late-twenties were laughing and gossiping; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were holding hands and smiling at each other, and the Grangers did the same. The twins and Lee Jordan had also showed up (presumably Lee had been in the same room when the owl had arrived and had wanted to come, too), as had Harry, though of course this wasn't saying much since he was still without a job and didn't have anything else to do during the day.

Ron was pacing around door number 18, trying to peek in or hear something. Every now and then he would come back over to the benches and sit by his mother. As he got up for the eighth time since Ginny had got there, the door opened and an aged Healer appeared.

"It's a big, healthy boy. You may go in to see them, now," she announced happily. Seeing, however, that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the Grangers, the twins, Lee Jordan, Harry and Ginny rose when she said this, she amended, "Just the husband, for now."

So Ron was admitted to the delivery room. After a few more minutes, his beaming, flushed face poked out of the door and he beckoned them in.

As Ginny entered, she saw Hermione holding a bundle of emerald blankets, looking very tired indeed with large, dark circles under her eyes. Hermione's parents were the first to hold the baby boy. They were very curious about the Wizarding medical equipment, and considered the brightly-colored swaddling blankets very funny. Mrs. Weasley was the next to hold him. She and Arthur cooed to him for a long while, finally handing him back to Ron, whose face, normally so long and narrow, was split with a huge smile.

Ron's massive grin was suddenly directed toward Ginny.

"Here, Gin. You can hold him," Ron eased the baby into Ginny's arms.

Ginny hadn't held, or even seen, Corinthus until he was four months old, so this was a very powerful experience for her. The baby was very pale with a full head of red hair that was already somewhat darker than Ron's. He had a fat, squished face, but Ginny was quite certain that would improve with time.

"He's just over ten pounds," said Hermione sleepily. Needless to say, she had been given some sort of powerful potion for the pain, and her head lolled a bit, but she was still wearing the same proud expression as Ron (and Mrs. Weasley, for that matter).

Ginny returned him to Hermione, and everyone filed out, leaving the little family to it.

"Why can't I hold him?" complained Fred once they were back in the waiting room.

"He's a newborn. Not everybody could hold him," snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"But Ginny got to!" Fred protested.

"I'm a girl," she replied simply.

"I wonder what they'll name him," commented Mr. Weasley as they all took their seats again.

"I'm betting on 'Froglips'," said George loudly, causing Ginny to slap his arm very hard.

"George, that is a horrible thing to say. He's a beautiful baby," hissed Mrs. Weasley, glancing apologetically at the Grangers, who, anyway, looked uncomfortable being around magic wands.

"You two were ugly babies," said Mr. Weasley helpfully to the twins, "and look how you turned out!"

Later in the afternoon, Percy turned up with his son, who desperately wanted to see his little cousin. So another trip into room 18 was arranged, and this time, Ron and Hermione had a name: Julius. _What is it with Wizards giving their children such weird names?_ Harry thought.

Eventually, after enough pictures had been taken with both Muggle and Wizard cameras, the family and friends dispersed and left Hermione, Ron, and their son alone for the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains and onto the bed. Ginny's eyelids fluttered open and she rolled over onto her side, trying to escape the light. She heard clattering from the kitchen and slowly sat up. Her long hair hung around her face in wild whorls and ringlets. Shifting both feet out from under the covers and placing them on the floor, she gradually stood up. She shuffled out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where she found Harry repairing an eggcup that he had dropped.

"Morning, darling. Soft boiled egg?" he asked cheerily.

Blearily, she nodded, standing behind him and putting her arms around his large, lean trunk. Though he had ended up being a large man with broad shoulders and big hands and feet, he had never filled out very well, and he had a sort of gaunt look about him. Ginny, too, was tall and thin (and virtually hip-less, she pointed out to Hermione on several occasions) having inherited her father's lanky frame. Currently, the outlines of her shoulder blades and ribs were quite visible through her night gown.

Harry set the water to boil and levitated two eggs out of their carton.

"Please be careful with those eggs," she was biting her lip. If he had already broken an eggcup, he had an excellent chance of breaking one or both eggs.

"I'm being careful, don't worry." He resented that no one thought he could cook. In truth, he was horrible, relying on eggs, tea, and beans on toast as staples of his bachelor's diet. Mostly he went out if he was really hungry.

Ginny giggled and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. She leaned over and looked at his watch.

"Oh, Merlin. I have to go in fifteen minutes," she sighed.

"Why so early?" Ginny usually went to work at nine.

"The sales analyst chap was going to meet with me to discuss this book I'm looking at. It was written by a Merman. Bit of mud-slinging, if you ask me, pointing fingers at the Fudge administration, but it's expected to sell huge numbers, so Magnus is pushing it hard."

Ginny had received the manuscript the day after Julius was born. After spending three weeks making sure that the translation from Mermish was accurate and another week checking the English grammar, Ginny was now researching the historical facts in the book to make sure everything checked out. So far, the Mermaid chief seemed to know what he was talking about, but Ginny still had to verify every single date in the footnotes.

After showering, dressing and breakfasting, Ginny gave Harry a quick kiss, murmured, "Don't have too much fun while I'm away, okay?" and Disapparated.

She arrived in Mr. Singh's office at exactly eight o' clock, and right on time. He was behind his desk, scribbling something with a huge, white, fluffy quill. He looked up and smiled warmly at her when she arrived.

They got straight to work. Ginny presented him with statistics on the number of translators they'd had working, the number of mistakes they'd found in the translation, and how long she expected it would take for the team to get the book published. After reviewing these details with Mr. Singh, Ginny sat back in her chair and waited for him to begin. He didn't.

He was staring at her lustily. She immediately recognized this look and began a feeble excuse to try and leave, but he cut her off.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Ginny."

'Liar,' she thought angrily. She was not flattered and did not like this at all.

He got up and crossed the office to stand between her and the door.

"I know that sometimes relationships in a working environment are a bad idea, but-"

Ginny interrupted him this time. "You're absolutely right. These things simply lead to awkward situations." She was trying her very hardest to be polite. She again tried to excuse herself, but he wouldn't move.

"Mr. Higgs speaks most highly of you," he said. He had a beatific smile on his face which might have looked genuine and kind, if he hadn't been cornering a young co-worker who was obviously not interested.

"In fact, everyone really likes you. As do I, clearly."

"Look Nigel, I don't want to offend, but I'm engaged to be married," she stated forthrightly.

His face fell instantaneously. "I'm so sorry," he said, and then moved out of her way, mortified. His face was quickly paling and he stared at his highly-polished leather shoes. "I was out of order just then."

"Yes," said Ginny shortly before pulling open the large oak door of his office and hastening down the hall, not bothering to close it.

She slammed the door of her own office, threw her things on the desk, and collapsed onto her large chair, breathing heavily, her face contorted.

The nerve of that man! He was probably fifteen years older than her, senior to her, hardly knew her…and when he wouldn't let her out of his office… Merlin, she needed to calm down. She had a lot of work to do.

Late in the afternoon, Ginny ventured out of her office for a cup of tea in the break room. As was to be expected, Nigel was there, though this time they weren't alone. Ginny's friend Faustus Hopper, clad in an ink-stained apron, was trying to extract a pastry from the case in the corner. He spotted her and waved.

"Ginny! How's it going with your nephew?" Mr. Hopper was very interested in little Julius, as his own son and daughter-in-law were expecting a baby very soon.

"Oh, he's doing quite well. He hasn't smiled yet, but he moves his head a lot and makes noise," they laughed quietly at this.

"And how's your Mr. Potter?" said Mr. Hopper, winking and smiling. Kind old Faustus had walked in on them in a cupboard once, while Harry was "visiting".

Ginny would have given him a sack of Galleons not to say this.

"Potter?" asked Mr. Singh. "Harry Potter?"

"Oh yes," Mr. Hopper continued excitedly, "our Miss Weasley's very good friends with Mr. Potter." He put extra emphasis on the word "friend". Nigel stiffened slightly and said detachedly, "Well, good day to both of you," and stalked off.

Mr. Hopper looked at Ginny inquiringly, but she simply shook her head, said goodbye and went back to work with her tea.

The uncomfortable situation at work intensified two weeks later, when a small party was given for Blenheim Stalk, an accomplished author of many Muggle studies books, who had published what he said would be his last book: MUGGLES WHO SEE MAGIC AND CONSEQUENTLY SAY THINGS CONSTRUED AS ODD BY OTHER MUGGLES.

Because the party was held in the evening, Ginny brought Harry. Everyone was dressed very smartly and holding a cocktail. Ginny led Harry over to Mr. Higgs, to whom Harry was a downright idol. After signing an autograph for Mr. Higgs' "great-niece", Harry was accosted by Brumhilde Doff, a middle-aged witch in accounting, and was ordered to dance. Shrugging and laughing, Harry was dragged onto the floor, where he patiently danced with Brumhilde and courteously listened to her chatter. Ginny watched from the side, blissfully free from unfamiliar dance partners. She strolled over to where the band was set up, the hem of her dress robes fluttering as she walked. The group was comprised entirely of witches, who were playing old jazz on older instruments. She watched them until the song ended and felt a small tap on her shoulder. Smiling, she spun round and found Nigel Singh pompously grinning back at her. He held out his hand.

"If you would, might I have this dance?"

She felt sick, she was so angry.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Singh, but I'm not much for dancing." She said this slowly, so he could hear the spite that was dripping off every word. He did. He pursed his lips, nodded, turned on his heel and swaggered away. It was, of course, a lie that she didn't like dancing. She intended that he might see her dancing all evening, and get the message that she was exclusively disinterested in him.

Harry came up suddenly and gave her a cartoonish pout.

"Why the long face, Snugglebutton?" At least someone was in a good mood.

"Some creep keeps making passes at me," she muttered. Harry didn't seem too pleased.

"For how long? Where is he?" He demanded.

"Look, it's no big deal. I can handle it."

"You look pretty angry, now, though," he reasoned. "Come on, love, let's dance. I like this song."

"Do you even know this song, Harry?" Ginny laughed as they strode onto the floor.

"Of course!" He hummed along with a high-speed tune as he grabbed her hands and twirled her around.

For half an hour, they were on the dance floor, staying up for every number. Finally, Harry said he was thirsty and led her to the punch bowl.

Mr. Higgs was in front of the gherkins, sipping a glass of sherry.

"Delightful party, Magnus," Harry drawled.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter! I think so, too!" He was tipsy and blustering, but seemed to be having a grand time.

Harry and Ginny got their punch and sat down near the wall opposite the band. This offered them a good view of the dancers' antics.

"I was thinking," Harry said over the din.

"Oh dear. Not again," giggled Ginny, getting a bit tipsy herself.

"I think we should get married before the end of the year," he said.

Ginny stared at him. "But…we haven't even told anyone we're engaged."

"That's not a problem, " he was solemnly looking into Ginny's eyes. "We can set a date, and then tell people."

The ends of Ginny's mouth twitched a little, and she wrapped her arms around Harry's neck.

"New Year's Eve?" she inquired.

Harry laughed deeply, proclaiming, "I am so in love with you," as he kissed her intensely, not minding the affronted gaze of Brumhilde Doff.


	6. Chapter 6

"So, Harry, exactly what are you doing for a living, now?" inquired Charlie, helping himself to another piece of goose.

"Oh, Charlie! It's Christmas Day, for Merlin's sake. Why don't you leave the poor boy alone?" barked Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, mum, I also thought you might want Harry to have a steady job, seeing as he'll be marrying your only daughter in six days," commented George through a mouthful of carrots.

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quietly and looked at Charlie. "I actually have been involved in a sort of venture with a couple of friends."

"What sort of venture are you talking about?" asked Hermione.

"Real estate," Ginny replied.

There was a murmur of curiosity around the table.

"And what sort of real estate?" Mr. Weasley peered at Harry keenly.

"Housing. We've found a spot in Surrey, just outside a Muggle suburb. There's a large, empty field that we've bought, and we're going to build a Wizard-only housing development."

"Who's 'we'?" asked George.

"Is there any need for non-Muggle establishments like that?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Where're you getting the capital?" asked Bill.

"When will it be finished?" asked Penelope.

Harry reeled as he tried to process all the questions.

"'We' is myself, Arnold Peasegood, and Luco Donati. I got my third of the initial deposit from my inheritance. The project is open-ended for now, so I have no clue as to when it will be finished. Now, Mr. Weasley, the idea behind the settlement is not to exclude Muggles, but rather to encourage personal freedom for Wizards. We hope that the whole project will promote a community feeling, not further alienate Muggles," Harry finished, breathed deeply, and sighed as the questions started again.

"Are you going to live zere?" asked Fleur.

"Exactly what are you building?" asked Ron.

"Yes, Gin and I will move in to one of the first houses. And to answer your question, Ron, I'm funding the construction of the first fourteen houses; Peasegood is dealing with the Ministry to charm the entrance and perimeter so that Muggles won't stumble in on accident; Donati is in charge of the first two commercial spaces and the school."

"There's a school?" asked Percy.

"Yes. It's a grammar school, and we know nothing about it except that we're building it. The Ministry's been looking for a spot to put one of these, which is probably why they agreed to let us start constructing."

"When you say 'first' fourteen houses…"

"We're only trying to jumpstart a community. There will be many more lots for sale after we've constructed the first buildings, and lots of space. We'll be using about ten percent of the entire land in our total plans, and that includes all those empty lots I was talking about."

"Luco Donati…isn't he that nasty young buck who remodeled the old pub on Diagon Alley? The Gold Lion? Remember what a nice job they did on that one? How did you get to be friends with him, Harry?" Mr. Weasley didn't look at all pleased that Harry was friends with Luco Donati, and he knew exactly why: Donati was a drunk, a womanizer, and a gambler, and somehow, also a very wealthy man.

When all the questions had been asked, everyone seemed rather proud of Harry for doing anything at all with his time. He had been living off his parents' money with no income for almost a year, and had finally decided that, out of respect for them and for any children he might have, he needed to fill up his Gringott's account. Arnold Peasegood had approached him to join the project in September; he had immediately jumped aboard and currently spent several hours a week meeting with Ministry officials and poring over blueprints and figures. He wasn't looking forward to the end of the first phase, because then he would have to earnestly look for a career.

In the late afternoon, everyone moved into the parlor. Fred and Angelina drew some chairs out of the air and made sure everyone was seated. The subject of conversation was now grandchildren. Penelope was pregnant again, which practically sent Mrs. Weasley into a fit of delight when she heard. Percy was excitedly talking about how he'd check in his department and see if anyone knew anything about the new school, because he wanted to start his son as soon as was possible. Julius, propped up on some cushions, smiled around at the assembled family. He was now almost five months old and enjoyed gurgling, smiling, and pooping. Corinthus adored him.

"How are you two holding up?" Ginny was sitting next to Hermione and Julius.

"Ron's been a little cranky. I told him that he was going to have to share more of the feedings. You should have seen the look on his face. 'But…'Mione, I have to work!' It took him an entire day to figure out what he'd said to make me throw a dirty diaper at his head. I mean, really. How could someone possibly forget that their spouse had a job? Where does he think I go during the day? The library? Humph."

"So who've you got looking after Julius?" Ginny asked.

"Didn't you know? Your mum watches him on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I've cut back on my hours. Oh! We're just waiting on the patent now, by the way. I figured out that all we needed to do to fix the irritability in the test subjects was add a couple drops of Alihotsy extract. It's brilliant. It should be on the market by February."

Hermione was so happy about this that Ginny, too, was soon in excellent spirits, and started singing carols as Corinthus began passing around Christmas gifts.

"Gin, would you mind terribly shutting up?" asked George sweetly, flicking dungbombs at the tree.

"What's got you all shirty?" Fred was looking at George with his brows furrowed and a look of deep concern on his face. Ginny figured it out in a second. George was the odd one out. This was the first holiday that Fred had shown up with a date. Usually, both the twins were there alone, but this year, every other sibling had a significant other with them. George suddenly managed to hit the mantelpiece with one of the dungbombs, and it exploded into a loud of green gas.

"Sorry, Mum," said George lightly and, grabbing Corinthus by the hand, shouted "Let's get out of here, laddy!" They raced up the stairs and presumably into the twins' old room.

Harry whipped out his wand and was about to vanish the evil cloud when Fred yelled, "No, Harry! It's one of ours! Here!" He flicked his own wand at the green mass that was quickly dispersing and it instantly evaporated.

"What did you use?" Harry demanded in disbelief.

"Diffusum Tempastas," said Fred simply.

"I thought you only used that for weather!" Ron argued.

Fred gave him a withering look. "Now see here, we didn't want people instantly vaporizing our valuable wares with a simple vanishing charm, did we?"

"Apparently not," said Mr. Weasley.

Camelia and Bill finished passing out the presents. Every single person had been given a Weasley jumper, each one in a different color.

"Mum! How did you manage all these?" Ginny gasped.

Mrs. Weasley looked very bashful and shrugged her shoulders. Harry knew that she must have put a great deal of effort into these jumpers, and he intended to wear his as often as he could in appreciation of that effort.

At about two o' clock in the morning, Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron were, as usual, the last ones up. Julius lay sleeping in an old cradle Mrs. Weasley had found for him. The four spoke softly, trying not to wake the baby.

Ron had put on an air of wisdom and was talking quietly to Harry about what it meant to 'be a husband'. Hermione and Ginny were snickering madly, remembering Dumbledore dancing at Ron and Hermione's wedding party.

"He was (giggle) really quite talented!" whispered Ginny.

Hermione was now shaking with silent laughter with her hand over her mouth while Ron shushed her, pointing at Julius.

Harry was perfectly content at that moment, as he looked around at his best friends in the world joking and playing with each other; the snow falling outside; the firelight dancing off the empty butterbeer bottles covering the coffee table; his little nephew sleeping peacefully in the cradle; and it was evident to him that, contrary to what he had learned throughout his childhood and teenage years, there really was a bounty of love in the world. One only needed to seek it out.


	7. Chapter 7

And, like that, it was the new year. Harry and Ginny were married in a small, private ceremony so as not to attract the Prophet's reporters. He had, of course, never been happier in his life than he was on his wedding day. Ginny felt similarly. Harry sold most of his large furniture and moved into her apartment (he'd been sleeping there for months anyway), where the two would live until their house was built.

Peculiarly, Ginny had a grueling time adjusting to having him around all the time. Since moving out of the Burrow when she was eighteen, she hadn't lived with anyone else full time.

He was there when she got up in the morning, was there when she came back from work, was there while she was getting dressed, while she brushed her teeth, while she cooked, cleaned, ate, slept, went to bathroom…she couldn't escape her claustrophobia. She prayed that when they moved out of her little flat, she could find somewhere in the house to be alone.

It wasn't that she was sick of Harry, quite the contrary, but she simply couldn't unwind after work if she felt that he wanted to talk, or go somewhere, or do something.

For a few months, everything was very awkward. She could no longer, she felt, sit on the sofa in her underwear, listening to the WWN and clipping her toenails. Hygiene and recreation were no longer merged in such a fashion. She became extremely self-conscious when he opened the medicine cabinet and a tampon fell out at him. It didn't help that he screamed, "Get it off! Get it off!"

He was also having a bit of difficulty adjusting. Ginny generally slept less than he did, ran around all day, and still had energy for more. He felt slightly guilty that he worked less than his wife, but she still did most of the cooking. And why was she so quiet? Every day when she got home from work, she would disappear for an hour into the bedroom to read and think, sometimes without even saying hello first. Harry had expected that she would desperately want to talk to her husband about her day. She was excluding him from something, and that bothered him slightly.

For several weeks, their insecurities were pushed to the back of their minds. Neither was comfortable enough to bring up these issues. Although they were great friends and knew each other very intimately, they hadn't really had a big argument, and they were obviously unwilling to disturb the status quo. Finally, one evening in late March, Ginny came home a little later than usual. Harry was sitting in his usual armchair reading the Prophet when she staggered through the door. He looked up suddenly at the commotion as she dropped her keys and her papers flew all over the place. He leaped up and rushed to help her collect the things. She apologized a few times while Harry tried to put some pages in order. He caught sight of her tear-streaked face and his heart stopped as he stretched his hand out to her cheek.

"What happened to you?" he asked softly.

"Nothing." She got up and put her papers on the kitchen table, then went into the bedroom. Harry was used to this behavior, but understood that these were not the usual circumstances. He poured a glass of water and followed her in.

"Darling, please tell me what's wrong." He set the glass on the bedside table.

"It's really nothing, alright?" she snapped. Harry could see that she was trying very hard not to start crying again.

"Was it…something at work?"

"You wouldn't have guessed!" She was getting mean now. They were sitting next to each other on the bed. Harry lay his hand on her thigh.

"Please, Gin. Just talk to me," he begged.

"No, Harry. Look, it's no big deal." She emphasized the last two words.

"Was it that man? That Singh man?"

From the look on his wife's face, he knew he'd guessed correctly. "What'd he do to you?" said Harry, a little too loudly.

"I said, it's no big deal!" Ginny stood up. "It's nothing you can help with! He's leaving the company in a couple of weeks anyway."

"Love, if you're crying about something, it's obviously a big deal. Do you want me to give him a talking-to?" he said this gruffly.

"No! I don't want you to talk to him about anything. Please, Harry, just give me a minute."

Now Harry stood up. "You always want to spend time alone! How do you expect me to help you with anything if you won't even be around me?"

Ginny stared at him long and hard. Her cheeks were very pink and here nostrils were flared. "I - DON'T - NEED - YOUR - HELP!"

Harry was taken aback. "I'M YOUR HUSBAND! We're supposed to help each other!"

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST GIVE ME A BREAK?" she strode to another wall so that they now had ten feet between them.

"WHY DON'T YOU EVER TELL ME ANYTHING?" he shouted back at her.

"BECAUSE…YOU'RE JUST SO…CLUELESS!"

He was more angry than hurt. "Exactly what did you mean by that?"

"Even if I terribly needed to speak to someone about my incredibly bad day, I wouldn't talk to you! You'd just offer to pummel someone for me! It's not going to happen. I don't need you to play the hero. Now please, give me a while." She sat back down on the bed.

"OH! I'LL GIVE YOU A LONG WHILE!" he stormed out of the bedroom, slamming he door behind him, and grabbed his cloak. He threw it over his shoulders and fumed out of the flat.

He had no idea where he was going. He couldn't think properly. Play the hero? PLAY? He had never PLAYED the hero. No, he had been forced into it, and she knew that.

It wasn't dark yet, so there were still plenty of people in the streets, all of whom jumped out of the way as Harry stalked by. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of number 29, Diagon Alley. He knew that she didn't want him to pound Singh, and that was precisely why he was going to do it.

As luck would have it, Nigel Singh was still sitting at his desk, doing numbers. He heard the thumping of footsteps outside, and looked up. Just as he did so, he saw a tall man throw open his office door and stride up to his desk. The man (whom Nigel couldn't remember ever meeting) walked round the desk and seized him by the lapels. Mr. Singh felt himself hit the floor. Then he felt a sharp pain on his face. He was lifted by the lapels again. Nigel opened his eyes and saw a long, frowning face with bright green eyes and a lightning-shaped scar. Something clicked.

"Look, whatever she told you-!" Harry dropped him onto his feet.

"She didn't tell me anything. So I'll ask you. What did you do to my wife?"

Nigel stumbled backwards. "I kissed her. It was a friendly kiss! A good-bye. I'm leaving the company soon!"

"I wouldn't have guessed from all the crying she was doing that it was friendly at all." Harry now stood to his full height and looked down his long nose at Mr. Singh, who was cowering slightly. "If you ever so much as speak to my wife again, it will be much worse than this. Understand?"

"It will be difficult, Mr. Potter, not to speak to her, seeing as we work together," Singh said slyly. He received a punch to the jaw.

"Well, I had understood that you were leaving VERY SOON!" Harry had had enough fist fighting. He raised his wand and pointed it at Nigel's face.

When Harry got home, Ginny was curled up in his armchair with her hands over her face. When she saw him, she sprinted over hugged him.

"I was so worried. I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things," she was in tears again, which made Harry a whole lot less angry. They sat on the sofa.

"You were right. Had you told me what the problem was, I would have offered to beat someone up," he shrugged. "I mean, I had to beat him up anyway…"

Ginny laughed, then realized he was serious. "Harry! You didn't kill him, did you?" It was his turn to laugh.

"No, I didn't kill him. He told me that he had given you a friendly kiss. So I punched him and hexed him a little."

"Harry, if he reports you, you could have a disciplinary hearing!" She looked about to bawl again, but he reassured her that Mr. Singh wouldn't report the incident. "He knows that if he reports me, you'll report him . Anyway, now will you tell me what really happened?"

Ginny looked at her clasped hands. "He said a friendly kiss?"

Harry nodded.

"He cornered me in the break room, of all places, and groped me for a minute. Faustus Hopper heard me struggling and came over. That's why Mr. Singh will be leaving the company shortly. You can bet he was all angry about it, even though I told Higgs I didn't want to file or anything. I don't think he'll get a very good peer evaluation."

She smiled a little and gave Harry a shy kiss on the cheek. She then went to bed without any supper, and even though it was only eight thirty.


	8. Chapter 8

Things quickly smoothed out for the Potters. Harry came to understand that Ginny was no fun at all if he didn't leave her alone for about an hour every day after work, and Ginny knew that if she didn't make an effort to include Harry in the mundane happenings of her day, he would feel left out and hurt. After all, any strong marriage demands a good slice of compromise.

Both parties saw a definite improvement after the new house was finished and they had more room. Although the new houses started out looking blank and cramped, they were soon inhabited by Wizards, and in a little while each of the fourteen was a different color and style. Ginny had seen to it on the first day that the façade would be blue clapboard. She made Harry check all the shutters all the way round the house and make sure none creaked. She performed some sort of obscure magic to make each room a little bigger while maintaining the same apparent external size. Harry was hugely impressed at his wife's skill with these spells. He'd never even seen most of them, and here she was, performing them perfectly. He assumed she'd learned them from her mum.

When they moved all their possessions into the new house, they found to their surprise that they didn't have much stuff, but they had lots of space to put it in.

"You know, darling, we have enough rooms for a family of six or more," Harry observed, leaning against a wall on the second floor.

"If you're suggesting that we have four or more children, you can forget about it." Ginny was setting up a houseplant near the window and trying to make it look more voluminous.

Mrs. Weasley had been paying keen attention to Ginny's middle section, as she and Harry had been married for almost two years already. So far, Molly had been sorely disappointed in the two, but had had many other grandchildren to keep her spirits up. With the addition of Penelope and Percy's second son, Charlie and Camila's boy, and Hermione and Ron's imminent baby, Mrs. Weasley had plenty to keep her occupied. Still, she couldn't help but drop hints every time she saw them. Ginny only felt lucky that she wasn't in Bill's predicament. To be past thirty and childless was a grave sin under the Weasley roof. Not to mention that he wasn't actually married to the woman he'd been living with for seven years…poor Bill had had a bad time of it. Mrs. Weasley had almost convinced him to set a date, but then he and Fleur had quite suddenly eloped. One weekend they came to dinner and said that they'd been married for six weeks and hadn't seen the need to tell the family. Molly was furious, especially when George took the hint and married his girlfriend Katie Bell (the very same). With two of her sons married without her interference, she told Fred, who was now the only unmarried child, that if he even thought of doing the same she'd disown him. He had answered that he didn't have anyone with whom to elope. Fred and Angelina had sadly broken up, then gotten back together, then broken up, then gone out again within three months. Harry wondered if they would spend the rest of their lives in this capricious dance.

Strange things were happening within the clan. As people coupled off, had kids, and generally grew up, Harry felt an odd sense of loss. He didn't usually joke around with Bill or Charlie anymore, but rather had sensed a sort of generational gap. Now that Phase One of his project was over, Harry didn't really have a job, and wasn't earnestly looking for one. One day when he and Ginny were up at the Burrow, he was lounging on the lawn drinking currant wine and chatting with Bill as they often did. Abruptly, as if for no reason, Bill stood up and turned on him.

"Why can't you just stop screwing around?" Bill had a furrowed brow and looked angrily at Harry, which was definitely a first.

"Sorry?" Harry examined his tumbler of wine curiously.

"You've been out of Hogwarts for what- eight years? When are you going to get a goddamned job? You've actually got a family, you know. You're a grown-up now. What sort of adult wizard are you, letting your wife do all the work?"

Harry stared at him in utter disbelief. His mouth opened and closed silently as he tried to process what Bill had just said.

"I have a job…and it's not like Ginny does all the work. And I've got gold coming in every month from the Ministry…and what do you mean, family? It's just us two, and we're fine." Harry was a little confused as to why his brother-in-law was shouting at him in the first place, and couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Look, Harry…I can get you an interview at Gringott's. I know you've done Arithmancy. You could work on some local stuff, nice comfy desk work. Why not give it a try?" He was now trying to look helpful.

"I'm not interested," Harry stated conclusively, and that was the end of their row.

With all the pressure on him to get a job, Harry couldn't stand to go to the Burrow anymore, and stayed away for several weeks, which made Ginny very angry with him.

"I can't hang around like that, with Mum telling us to have kids and everybody telling me to get a job and nobody considering that maybe we're happy as we are!" he collapsed on the bed, his pajamas rustling as he settled.

"Love, I don't know what to say. If it bothers you that much, just get the damned desk job Bill offered you and clear your conscience," Ginny said rationally, propped up on a couple of pillows, reading.

"No! I don't need his charity!"

"It's not charity, dear, he's trying to honestly help you."

"Well, I don't need his honest help!"

Harry lay there in bed for a few minutes, thinking angrily about Bill and jobs and expectations…and then his thoughts became amorously engaged. Ginny put down her book and sighed, being rather tired, but then remembered that this might be a good time to get it off her chest. He might not get cross if she just suggested it nonchalantly…

"Why don't you go back and be an Auror?" She muttered it, but he heard quite clearly. He glared at her contemptuously for a few seconds, finally saying heatedly, "How many times do I have to explain it to people? I'm not EVER going to do that, okay? I won't do it!" He had apparently lost all interest in his previous activity, because he exhaled huffily and turned on his side with his back facing Ginny.

"Harry, I didn't want to annoy you when I suggested that, I just…you've already been through training. I seems logical as a…fall-back career."

Without any reply from her husband, Ginny sighed, "Fine," and turned the light out.


	9. Chapter 9

Ginny smiled broadly as she felt a small, sticky hand slip into hers. She looked down at Julius, now four, who had just finished an ice cream and was licking his lips and beaming up at his aunt.

The sun was high above their heads at about two in the afternoon. It was the middle of May, and everyone on the street was wearing their summer robes already. A light breeze occasionally whisked about their faces, but the heat was still easily felt by everybody.

Ginny had taken Julius out that morning as a surprise, because his mother needed a little break from the four-year-old while she attended to the new baby, Nicholas. The boy was oblivious to this reasoning, and was having a grand time walking with his aunt as she did her shopping.

He had grown into a maniac. He couldn't stop moving, talking, and eating. With his father's red hair and his mother's large front teeth, he reminded one of a frenzied squirrel. Julius was well loved by the family as an entertainer, and his grandmother especially loved to watch his attempts at juggling. So far, he'd exhibited many signs of being magic. While Corinthus had demonstrated conventionally useful magic such as stopping a dungbomb from hitting his uncle Harry's head and making his bed on accident, his little cousin was more interested in using his fundamental magic to nip sweets from the kitchen and evade parental capture.

As they passed an apothecary, Ginny saw Julius reach his hand into a barrel of some sort of bubbling yellow slime and pulled him back by the collar just before he grabbed a handful of the stuff.

"Julius, you mustn't touch the merchandise on the streets. Especially at the apothecary. That could have been a very dangerous potion in that barrel," Ginny wasn't exactly sure how to discipline this child, because she didn't often do it, but he ended up putting his hands in his robe pockets and smiling at her. In essence, he was a good boy, she thought.

"Jules, I need to go into the robe shop and be measured. Will you sit still for a few minutes while I do that?" Ginny had serious doubts as to whether he could sit still for half a minute, much less ten, but she supposed she could keep one eye on him. She led him into Madam Malkin's and sat him in a corner, where she made him promise not to get up until she came to get him. She stepped up to a pedestal where she was measured for some summer robes. A shop girl bustled around her, pulling at the tape around her waist, levitating it to her arms, and then dropping it to her hips. Ginny kept craning her neck to see Julius, who was now drawing colorful, smoky lines in the air with his fingertip. The attendant chuckled.

"He yours?" She jerked her head toward the boy.

"My nephew. I've got him for the day," she replied cheerfully.

He was now drawing stick figures in the same smoky medium, one of whom looked like him, and the other of which was probably a very unflattering impression of Ginny, complete with lots of wavy red hair.

"Right. Finished. Now, you can look at our color swatches and decide how you want it cut. Erm…" she glanced at Julius, "You should probably bring him along."

Ginny motioned to the youngster to come join her. As he left his seat, he stepped through the mural of colorful smoke he'd created in the air: it dispersed quickly and disappeared.

The shop girl opened a large leather folder with a plethora of fabrics in it. Ginny saw reds, blues, greens, and a large, fuzzy patch of violet. She was examining aquamarine cotton when she heard the bell over the door ring, signaling someone's entrance. Immediately she felt Julius clasp her free hand and scoot in to hug her skirt. Wondering why the boy would react in this fashion and to whom, she turned halfway. Standing just a couple of meters away from her was a thin, elegant man in expensive robes with his white-blond hair combed back smoothly. Draco Malfoy had a somewhat disgusted expression glued on his face. Ginny's jaw dropped.

He was gazing at her and at Julius with a nasty glint in his eyes. He said nothing but smirked and asked for assistance. Madam Malkin herself sashayed over to Mr. Malfoy and instructed him to step up to the platform for quick measurements. He didn't take his eyes off of Julius. Clearly, he though that the boy was her son, and therefore Harry's.

Ginny was not surprised that the proprietress of the store personally saw to Malfoy's needs; although his father was permanently in Azkaban, Draco was still one of the wealthiest wizards in England. Had Madam known that Ginny was Harry Potter's wife, she would certainly have acted in the same way, but Ginny didn't usually like to disclose this information to strangers.

She selected the blue cotton fabric and waited as the shop witch departed to the back of the store to fill Ginny's order. As Madam Malkin did the same with Malfoy's robes, he stepped off the pedestal and moved toward her. He stopped a foot from her face and smiled brightly.

"How long has it been, Mrs. Potter? Eight? Nine years?" His bright smile had turned a little sour.

"I couldn't say," she answered shortly. His eyes traveled to the small child who was standing half-concealed behind her skirts. "I didn't realize you had a son."

"This is my nephew."

Malfoy now saw that he couldn't torment them much more, gave a terse nod, and awkwardly shuffled to another part of the store. Julius came out from behind Ginny.

That night, after finishing her shopping and returning her nephew to his parents, Ginny related the incident to her husband.

"He was actually quite decent. He scared the goblins out of Julius, though. I dunno. He seemed really interested in him until he figured out that he's not your son," she trailed off. Harry had an odd look on his face that she couldn't read.

"Look, I don't think he's out to get our unborn children, if that's what you're thinking," she looked quizzically at him. "He probably just wanted to point out that Julius looks nothing like you and accuse me of sleeping with the milkman." She grinned at what she thought was a great joke, but Harry was frowning heavily.

"I had hoped that we'd never see him again," he finally voiced. He got up and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Harry, please, you dirty boy. Close the blinds first!" Ginny said this in her most seductive, tarty voice, but didn't get a peep out of him.

"This is really bothering you, isn't it?"

He looked at her and the lines on his forehead smoothed out.

"Yeah. Look, I had nearly forgotten about his existence, but after all that money he gave to the primary school…" Malfoy had given a whole sack of Galleons to pay for a primary potions lab in the grammar school down the road from the Potters (Corinthus currently attended Wheffle Grammar School and was in his third year).

"Harry, he can throw as much money as he wants to as many charities as he wants, but it won't change the fact that his father's in Azkaban and the family's name is mud," Ginny hated seeing Harry agitated like this, and she thought she was seeing more and more of his irritation lately.

On a whim, he had tried out for a community Quidditch team and made it on as Seeker. He played at least once a week and was letting some frustration out, which Ginny knew was good for him. But she also knew that what he really needed was to decide what to do for the rest of his life. She finally got him alone one afternoon and told him this. He had yelled, "You too, now, huh?" and stormed away. Later, he told her that it seemed like everyone was pressuring him to do something that he didn't want to do. She'd had enough.

"HARRY! Do you know WHY everyone's telling you to get a job? It's because you're wasting away. You're not doing ANYTHING! You want to know what I think? You want to be an Auror still. You just don't know you want it. Don't you think your parents would want you to fight the sort of vile creatures that killed-?"

"NO! I'VE ALREADY KILLED THE VILE CREATURE WHO KILLED THEM. NO MORE! STOP TELLING ME TO DO THIS! IT'S THE LAST THING ON EARTH I WANT TO DO!" He was nearly in tears. She hadn't at all intended for it to turn into an argument, but here it was. Harry climbed upstairs and Ginny heard him wash his face and brush his teeth. She sat reading in the living room for a couple of hours before nodding off and spending the night on the couch.

In the morning, she awoke to Harry standing over her, smiling like a lunatic.

"You're right, Gin! Of course you're right! I had a dream…I'll do it. I'm going back to the Ministry to get my certification renewed. I'll be an Auror. It's the right thing to do, isn't it? Yes, yes…" He continued mumbling his convictions about the meaning of life as he put the kettle on and boiled two eggs.

Ginny sat in awe. She had married a very complicated man, hadn't she? He stopped what he was doing every few seconds to glance back at her and grin.

And that, as they say, was that. It was no problem for the Ministry to accept Harry into the Auror program. He had already completed training and passed with flying colors, so he had been gleefully admitted onto the team. He recognized many members of the old Order; he renewed his friendship with Nymphadora Tonks, who had been a great mentor of sorts throughout Harry's training; and he finally had something to occupy his mind.

He had spent a decade trying to figure out how to do just that. In any other pursuit he was listless and felt that his talents were going to waste. Being an Auror, he was truly being challenged, and was happy about it.

He did have some serious issues to deal with before he could be satisfied fully. He remembered all the Aurors who had been killed or tortured…the Longbottoms, Alastor Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. But in time, Harry recognized that the great sacrifices these people had made were not in vain, and that should he be called upon to surrender himself as such, he would have no choice but to do so.

He began to spend more time at the Burrow now that he wasn't being condemned from all sides about his idleness. Everyone was quite pleased to see that he was content in his work, finally. The Daily Prophet also got wind of his decision, and Harry granted them an interview, as he was in such good spirits.

A whole year passed quite happily as Harry became adept in his field, helping to capture several foreign magic abusers and getting paid handsomely for it. Working at the Ministry was a pleasure, now that Amelia Bones had been elected as Minister for Magic. Harry wasn't sure what had happened to Fudge. He was very quietly retired somewhere in Wales, and that was the last they had heard from him.

Ginny climbed the career ladder considerably when a whole branch of Whizz Hard opened to accommodate specialized books written by non-humans. The two of them were so happy with their professional and private lives that they felt no need to change anything at all.

Nevertheless, a few changes were indispensably in order.

On a sunny Sunday morning in June, Harry woke up early, looking forward to reading his entire Daily Prophet and drinking a whole pot of tea. He was surprised to see that Ginny was already awake. Her spot in the bed was incongruously empty but Harry didn't hear her making breakfast or listening to the WWN. He pulled on his bathrobe and slippers and wandered downstairs, a little concerned. He found her curled up on the sofa, reading a manuscript.

"What are you doing up so early?" he asked brightly.

She looked up from her text. "I'm pregnant," she said, and went back to work.

Harry had crossed the entire room and almost grabbed the kettle before he comprehended her words. He spun around and stared.

"What?" He wasn't completely sure he hadn't been hallucinating.

"We're going to have a baby. In the winter." She didn't seem very excited about this at all, and just kept reading. Harry wasn't going to let her get away with that. He dashed over to her, snatched her papers and chucked them onto the floor, then scooped her into a bizarre hug, where he had one arm around her neck, the other round her thigh and she was laughing hysterically. He rocked her a little, and then raised the normal questions: "Are you sure? How long have you known? What should we name it?"

"Whoa, Harry. Jumping the wand a little there, don't you think?"

He looked at his wife's pretty, smiling face for a full minute before kissing her deeply, setting her back down on the sofa, and running outside to take his broom for a ride.


	10. Chapter 10

On a Saturday during the first week of November, after deciding that they'd procrastinated quite enough, Harry and Ginny hauled themselves up to London to shop for baby furniture.

The Potters had discovered in August that they could expect twins, prompting special interest by Fred and George, both of whom were as yet childless. Molly also had many bits of advice about caring for twins, and when Harry suggested that they were going up to London to buy two cribs, she threw her arms up in exasperation.

"Why? Why would you do such a thing? They're babies. They don't mind sharing a bed. They like to keep each other company."

Harry and Ginny took her advice, having no other source, and presently entered a shop on Nobles Road, very near to Ginny's old neighborhood.

The store was dank and musty, like all the Wizarding shops in London. This one had a less sinister air about it than most of the others Harry had ever visited, however. He saw a bin full of the leather pouches he'd seen farmers use to feed lambs and foals. Cloth nappies were stacked thickly in a case in the middle of the room. Suddenly, an appallingly old witch darted at them from nowhere.

"Good day, good day. What can I help you with, poppets?" Her eyes traveled over the two of them, landing unsurprisingly on Harry's scar. "Are you Harry Potter?" He nodded. "Well, isn't that nice. Starting a family of your own, now, hmm?" She winked at him and he saw that her eyelids sagged, and then she smiled, and Ginny saw that she was missing teeth, and that her wrinkles seemed to have wrinkles.

"We need to buy a cradle for two babies," Ginny said.

As the lady led them into the back of the shop, Harry whispered, "Now our secret's out. The press will have a field day with this one, you just watch."

The decrepit witch pointed to a beautifully carved cot that looked large enough for two babies. Harry was fully satisfied, but Ginny wisely asked to see more options. After half an hour, they decided on a plain, sturdy, cherry crib. As Harry went to complete the purchase, Ginny reminded him that they needed other pieces. They ended up with some sort of changing table and a wardrobe, plus some of the odd leather pouches that Harry understood Wizards used to feed human babies, too.

Harry bought the items, and then watched as the old witch slowly took out her wand and shrunk each piece of furniture, wrapped it with old newspaper and put it in a brown bag. She said, "You'll need to have these in place before midnight, because that's when the spell wears off." They nodded, took the bags, said goodbye, and left the shop.

When they got home, Ginny arranged the miniature furniture around the nursery, which was freshly painted (after an entire summer of nagging her husband to do it). Leaving the fixtures in their tiny state, she went to start dinner for herself, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Julius, and baby Nicholas.

As Ginny was coming down the stairs, she heard the doorbell ring. 'Aren't they early?' she thought. She went to open it, and found three strangers looking at her expectantly, notebooks out and quills poised. Registering that these were reporters, she shut the door before they could say a word, called for Harry, and went to start washing the carrots.

"What's going on? Who's at the door?" he asked as soon as he came into the room from the study.

"Reporters," Ginny sighed. They'd had incidents like this before: after their first date at the Weird Sisters Concert, several times in the weeks after they were married, and once out of the blue. They both knew the protocol: don't say anything, shut the door, owl the newspapers immediately. Harry had dealt with this since he first knew he was a Wizard, so he was quite jaded. Ginny, however, thought it was the biggest nuisance in the world.

An hour later, they heard another doorbell, and this time Harry answered the door to see the Weasley-Grangers on the threshold, with no reporters in sight.

"Looking a bit jumpy, aren't we, mate?" joked Ron as in one movement he entered the house, clapped Harry on the shoulder and set a bottle of soda water on the kitchen table.

Hermione followed, rolling her eyes and handing Nick off to Harry. Julius immediately checked all round the kitchen for bits of unattended food, but all he found were vegetables and raw meat, which were naturally useless. Hermione motioned for Ginny to sit down and began stirring the sauce herself.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

Ginny giggled. "You probably can remember."

"No, I mean…how does it feel with twins? You're really big, and it's -what- seven months?"

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly fun, but it should be worth it. I doubt I'll do this again, though." It had been rather trying for Ginny. She'd had influenza in October, and was still looking peaked and sickly. She was constantly smiling even though she was emaciated and made a brave effort to cook, though Harry had been doing most of the domestic work. Once she got home from the offices, Ginny was exhausted and in no mood to clean.

She was now sprawled on the sofa, listening to the boys talk as they tried to help Hermione in the kitchen.

"Catriona McCormack is really interested in the neighborhood," Ron said. "She thinks you need to turn your community team pro. I told her she was ludicrous. She's still planning to owl you about it, though." Ron worked in the offices of the Pride of Portree Quidditch team, though he often expressed his wish to work for the Chudley Cannons. It was through Ms. McCormack that Ron got tickets to Weird Sisters concerts, as her son was the lead guitarist.

Julius currently waddled up to Ginny and attempted to crawl into her lap, but couldn't fit and slid to the floor. Feeling very embarrassed about this, Ginny scooped him up and sat him close to her on the couch with her arm around his little shoulders.

"Why have you gotten so fat?" he inquired.

Hermione looked horrified and shrieked, "Julius! You are a naughty, rude little boy! You apologize to your Aunt Ginny right now!"

He looked shocked that people were disciplining him, and scooted a little away from Ginny on the sofa, but obediently said he was sorry.

Ginny ineptly explained to him that she was going to have a couple of babies, and encouraged him to recollect that his mother was fat like this before Nicholas was born, but he did not remember, and anyway seemed not to really accept that his brother, who was eighteen months old, was permanently living with them.

The four old schoolmates chatted for hours about everything they could think of, generally returning to politics and Harry's Auror work. Hermione was now on a team in the labs researching the effects of Billywig stings on small children, which might bring about radical changes to Fizzing Whizbee production and consumption. They spoke of Julius starting local Muggle school, and of a probable transfer to Wheffle's down the road. He was a handful enough when in the company of Wizards, but they couldn't figure out how to get him to not mention magic when around Muggles, so they were going to pull him out after the summer term.

Ginny was working on her last project before she had leave. It was an exquisite autobiography written by Firenze, the centaur who was still co-teaching Divination at Hogwarts. It was a tricky political situation to handle, because the centaurs were generally so secretive about their customs and culture. Firenze had been banished long ago from the herd, and his book might prove to be damaging to the publishing house if the centaurs in his herd became involved. Magnus Higgs had put Ginny on the job because she had proven herself to be a really genius diplomat on that first book by the Mermaid. That had nearly escaladed into a nasty legal contest over some misconstrued or paraphrased sentence, but Ginny had seen to it that both parties sit down and reason with each other and had altered the text so that it agreed to the terms set down by the offended faction. In the end, it had gone very well and the book had sold half a million copies world wide, an unmatched number for Whizz Hard Books.

By nine, both children were asleep, and Ron and Hermione said they'd have to leave. The Potters bade them farewell and goodnight, and went to bed early themselves.

On Christmas Eve, exactly one week before his wife was due to give birth to their children, Harry Potter became abruptly aware as to what, in reality, this commitment meant.

This was nothing compared to his decision to get married. He had been so in love with Ginny, so young, and hadn't seen that anything could go wrong as long as she agreed to marry him.

Now, however, with more years behind him and more responsibilities, he was suddenly terrified that he would make some poor decision and ruin his children's lives. He didn't know how Ron seemed so happy, allowing his kids to run round eating bugs, flying toy brooms and playing with gnomes, knowing that at any moment, they could be seriously injured or killed. Or how Hermione was comfortable screeching at Julius as she did. Didn't she think maybe she was being a little hard on him? But then, Charlie never said a word to his son, Marco. And what was up with that child? He was having prophecies at the age of four…Harry supposed there was some Seer blood on his mother's side of the family. Now Percy was stern with Corinthus, and he was a fine, intelligent boy, but he also never gave his father a hug or kiss and was clearly a little intimidated by him. What was a parent to do?

Ginny, Harry was pleased to see, didn't seem too anxious about her parenting abilities. What he didn't know was that she had already stressed about this months ago, and by now was concerned primarily with the physical aspect of child-bearing.

In their respective states of anticipation, the Potters were obliged to make the snowy trek to the Burrow for dinner on Christmas Eve. Because Ginny was on bed rest, this was more difficult than ever before. She could not safely Apparate or go by Floo, so Harry arranged for the Knight Bus to take them, as it was all he could think of doing.

As the bright purple Knight Bus skidded to a halt in Ottery St. Catchpole, Harry stood on shaky legs and tried to maneuver his wife out of the vehicle. She wasn't very good on her feet, what with the forty-some extra pounds on her thin frame, so the conductor (not Stan Shunpike this time) grabbed one of her elbows and dragged. As the men heaved her out of the bus, Ginny was numb with embarrassment. For a woman who had always considered herself independent and mobile, she was feeling very feeble. She also didn't like that the conductor had started nudging her bum in an effort to get her out.

The moment both Potters were finally completely out of the triple-decker, they heard a thunderous engine start and Ginny barely had time to see a flash of purple before all evidence of the thing was gone. Seizing Harry's arm, she dragged herself to the driveway of the Burrow. When they were five feet away from the door, it opened and the twins and Charlie poured out, all running to help Ginny inside.

They were greeted inside by several small children running near the door, each of whom had red hair of some degree: Corinthus and Bertram, Penny and Percy's sons; Marco, Charlie and Camelia's; and Julius. Nicholas was sitting under the Christmas tree, looking happy about the fairies that had been bewitched to perch on the branches. Ginny smelled things baking. Charlie helped her into a chair; she gave a yelp as her back gave a twinge.

"You okay?" five people shouted at once.

"Yeah…just another casualty of pregnancy, I guess," she joked.

She couldn't have known then that halfway through the bread pudding, just as Harry said they needed to get home, she would leak amniotic fluid all over her mother's dining chair, or that she would be hoisted back onto the Knight Bus by several of her brothers and be driven straight to St. Mungo's, her uneaten bread pudding lying on the table. She didn't know that she would give birth to a girl first, then a boy, while the entire Weasley band congregated in the waiting room, everyone sadly yearning for their own bread puddings. She couldn't possibly have known how happy her mother would be at the news that she had had a girl, but she soon discovered the above details to be true.

As these events unfolded, Harry was quickly swept into a daze. Perhaps it was all the sherry he'd had earlier in the evening, but most likely, he was simply overwhelmed. He had heard Ginny's squeal as she wet herself, felt his hands lift her back onto the bus, and vaguely remembered the Healers driving him out of the delivery room. He couldn't remember anything about waiting for two hours, or anyone speaking to him during this time, though he was sure that Percy, Ron, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley had seen fit to lend him a couple kernels of wisdom.

What he did remember was when the Healer finally beckoned him back in, and he had seen his lovely Ginny with her hair damp and large, dark circles under her eyes, looking more beautiful than he'd ever seen her (though maybe this was also the sherry talking). She was holding a bundle of emerald blankets. Another Healer was holding a second: these blankets were violet. Harry's eyes grew very wide at this sight, and he didn't know which to reach for first, so he ended up lunging for Ginny. He held her and thanked her incoherently for a while, and when he straightened back up, the Healer handed him the purple blankets.

The blankets were peculiarly heavy. Harry shifted one and budged the swaddling a little so he could see the baby's face. Then, he began to cry.

Most people haven't had to suffer through the emotional turmoil that Harry Potter had had to. Beginning with the deaths of his parents and his exile as an infant into the home of relatives who didn't love him, Harry had not had an easy time with loving or trusting people. When he thought about all the time his parents had missed from his life, and all that he had missed from theirs, he couldn't help but fear that the same would happen for his children. And as he looked into his newborn daughter's cloudy, grayish eyes, he wept for his parents, for his children, for anyone who was lacking in love, because at that moment, he was the happiest man in the world.

When he had calmed down after a few minutes, he handed one baby to Ginny in exchange for the other. He held his son, and knew instantly what he would name him: James.

"He'll be James, alright, Gin?" His voice quavered.

"Of course. It's a fine name. But, Harry…" she looked into her daughter's pink, pudgy face, "I want to name this one Alba. After Dumbledore."

With the names decided upon, the Healer disappeared for a moment, and a second later the rest of the Weasleys poured into the room. Camelia and Penelope were near the door, trying to keep the children at bay, but Julius wanted to give them Nicholas, and Corinthus thought that at age nine, he at least should be allowed to see the babies up close.

Molly swooped in and picked up her granddaughter. She looked at the baby and, like Harry, broke into tears.

"They're each just over five pounds," Ginny said.

Mrs. Weasley passed Alba on to Arthur, who also looked about to cry. Soon, all of Ginny's brothers had held at least one of the babies, and the Healer kicked everyone out. The Potters chuckled at Corinthus' groans as he was shooed into the hall.

Ginny was naturally exhausted, and as soon as she had seen that her babies would sleep for a while, dozed off. Harry was likewise fatigued, and fell asleep in a chair next to the hospital cradles.

He was awakened by a faraway voice…_who was that_? Harry sat up straight, rubbing his neck. He barely opened his eyes before he was engulfed in a hug. He saw billowing blue robes out of the corner of his eye, and a strand of long, white hair.

"Dumbledore…what are you doing in here at-" he checked his wristwatch "-four in the morning?" He was whispering as Ginny was still asleep.

"Arthur sent me an owl and told me Ginny'd had the babies. He also told me that you'd named one…well, after me." He paused for a long time. "I am truly, deeply touched by that, Harry." A tear slowly streamed down his face. "Arthur told me that it was actually Mrs. Potter who decided on it, but I'm thanking you all the same." He paused again and drew a large breath. "They're beautiful." he nodded toward the bassinet.

Harry had just realized that Albus Dumbledore had never before embraced him; not during his lonely childhood, not during his Hogwarts years, not even after the War. This made him again very emotional. What was with these babies? They were making grown men cry, right and left.

Harry stood up and led Dumbledore to the sleeping infants. The two watched them for a while, unconscious of each other, although each was thinking the same thoughts. Dumbledore stood watching little James and thinking how much he looked like his father, and for that matter, his grandfather; Harry saw his own reflection in his new son's face and remained in awe. They stayed like that for a long while, moving only at five o' clock, when Ginny sensed the absence of Harry's snores and awoke, demanding to cuddle her children again.


	11. Epilogue

EPILOGUE:

The sun shone very brightly upon Ginny Potter's head as she sat on the lawn at her parent's home, watching her nephews, brothers, sister-in-law, children and husband playing Quidditch high above her. She had been watching for half an hour, and was tired of squinting at the sun, so she retreated into the shade of a large umbrella that had been set up for Mrs. Weasley and her entourage.

Molly, Hermione, and Fleur reclined in their respective chaise lounges, sipping cold pumpkin juice and chatting happily. At their feet roamed two small children: Fleur's daughter Giselle and Hermione's third son, Theodore. They were similar in ages and were the youngest Weasley grandchildren at five years.

Fleur was talking to Hermione about French laws regarding broomstick travel, which were somewhat deviant from England's laws. Mrs. Weasley gazed at a pair of low-flying feet as they grazed the tips of the grass blades.

The younger children squabbled and pinched each other until they saw Mr. Weasley stroll down the lawn and under the shade. As quickly as his knees and back would allow him, he lowered himself to the ground to play with Giselle and Teddy. Ginny watched him point his wand toward the house and, after a moment, heard Charlie's old toy broomstick whizzing into his hands.

"Here, kids. Let's see if it can hold both of you. Otherwise, you'll have to take turns."

"Take turns?" said Fleur with an eyebrow raised.

Teddy seized the broom and straddled it, only to be knocked off in fifteen seconds by Giselle, who was a bit taller and heavier than he was. Teddy wasn't offended by this, and simply clambered back onto the broom. After several minutes of attempting to cohabit the broom, the two launched, as it were, off the ground and hovered for a few seconds, after which the broom quit and they fell on their behinds.

As the small children struggled with the toy broom, Ginny's son James, now eight, landed near the shaded area and scurried over to his mother, swinging his broom round his legs as he moved. When he was level with her chaise, he thrust his hand out.

"Bertram beat a rock at me when we were flying," he whimpered. Ginny saw an ugly scrape on the back of his hand. She pulled out her wand, healed it, and kissed James on the forehead. He didn't go back to the game, but lay on the grass next to his grandmother, listening to her tell stories about herself as a child.

Within the hour, all the players had landed except Harry and Alba, who were throwing a Quaffle back and forth, about fifteen feet off the ground. Ginny could hear the punch line of a stupid joke Harry was telling and Alba's immediate laughter.

As Weasleys had dropped out of the game, the umbrella on the lawn had grown, so that it was now the size of a circus tent and there were fifteen chairs fixed underneath it.

Ginny looked around at the assembled family: Percy, Penelope, Corinthus and Bertram; Ron, Hermione, and their three sons; George and Katie; Fred (a bachelor at the age of 38- though Angelina was still occasionally seen with him); Bill, Fleur, and Giselle; her parents, with gray hair and rheumatisms; and her own children and husband.

She reviewed her life for a moment, as she often did. She thought back to that day, so many years ago, when Harry had asked her on a first date. She thought about how she was so shocked, and how she hadn't felt the same way at the time. Ginny remembered the day she married him, the day her children were born…she viewed a mental list of accomplishments and checked to see that she'd done what she'd wanted to so far. She'd written a successful book, for one. Raised a family? She was in the process right now. Had a good time? Mostly. Yes. She was doing well.

As she was deep in these introspective thoughts, Harry and Alba landed right next to her. She looked up into her husband's face. She'd known him forever. She remembered the startled-looking, skinny little boy, the angry and confused adolescent, the dignified and proud adult. His scar had faded over the years. It would never go away completely, but as Harry aged, it became smaller and softer and one's eyes were not so drawn to it.

He smiled at her as Alba climbed onto her chair and stretched out as best she could.

"When are we going to eat? I'm starving. Absolutely starving. Gran, when are we going to eat?" Alba had sprung off Ginny's chair and was approaching Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny thought that quite probably, Alba wasn't really hungry, but that the whole family lying around not doing anything was making her uncomfortable.

Mrs. Weasley told Alba to go start peeling potatoes. As she couldn't do this alone, she prodded James, trying to make him help her. He wouldn't, so she tried all the other cousins until she finally forced Teddy, the youngest, to come up to the house with her.

Ginny moved her head so she inconspicuously peer at James and Nick, who were comparing Wizard Cards. She often checked up on him to make sure he wasn't being taken advantage of, even by his cousins. Her eyes shifted from the boys on the ground to Corinthus, who also seemed to be monitoring their trade. He was a large boy now, almost a man. He had graduated from Hogwarts that June with full honors, and truly seemed his father's son. He caught Ginny's eyes and came to sit next to her and Harry.

"Hello, Auntie," he crooned as he crouched on the grass next to her. He loved to call her Auntie, even though he was eighteen and about to move into his own flat. Ginny and Corinthus had a special bond: he was more like brother to her than a nephew. The difference in age between his cousins and him was large enough that he had many memories of the time when he was the only grandchild, when only his father and Ron had married, before his twin uncles were as wildly successful as they now were, and when his granddad had red hair, rather than gray.

"You still haven't given us your address, Cor," said Harry. "How will we spy on you if we can't find you?"

Corinthus gave a nervous laugh. He seemed, for an instant, not to understand that Harry was screwing with him.

"Only joking, Cor. As long as you come to Sunday dinner, we won't bother you."

In an attempt to keep her huge family cohesive, Mrs. Weasley had instituted a biweekly Sunday dinner. That is to say: if one didn't come up for dinner every other week, one wouldn't be getting many Christmas presents. As such, even Fred showed up nearly every time, though it was certainly more for the food than the company.

Harry, Ginny and Corinthus chatted for a long time, as most of the other Weasleys traipsed into the house to prepare for dinner in the garden. Harry watched the empty chairs fold and stack themselves and he suddenly felt the sinking sun in his eyes as the umbrella rolled itself up and plopped down next to the chairs.

Taking a hint, the Potters and their nephew collected their things and made their own way up to the house.

Inside, as usual, it was bedlam.

No less than six children were running about madly, playing some bizarre game which involved kitchen utensils. 'At least they're playing together,' thought Ginny. At that moment, she heard her own daughter give a macabre shriek and fall to the ground, fountains of blood grotesquely squirting from her ears as she giggled and rolled on the floor.

"FRED! THAT'S DISGUSTING! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU? DO NOT GIVE THOSE HORRIBLE THINGS TO THE CHILDREN!" Mrs. Weasley had no problem disciplining her sons, even if the eldest was forty-four.

George chuckled and pulled out his wand to clean up the fake blood and scooped up Alba.

The girl was completely spoiled. As the first granddaughter, she had been cherished (or worshiped, if you will) by Mrs. Weasley and everybody else. Even though she wasn't the only girl, she had precedence over Giselle. It is unfortunate when one child is the favorite, because it usually means that the rest are somewhat ignored. This was the case with Alba. The boys were viewed as messy, smelly and a little stupid, but she was seen as intelligent, beautiful, and very sweet, and as such, she grew into this ideal. She was now entirely deserving of everyone's affection, because she really was an extraordinarily kind and funny person, if she did have a wild streak.

Her evident perfection had always been a source of resentment for James, who, besides being the only grandchild without red hair, felt completely insignificant in the family scheme. Though everyone loved him very much, just as they loved all their nephews and nieces, he was shy and, most felt, rather too sullen for an eight-year-old. He didn't like Quidditch very much, and hated playing with Bertram, who was several years older and was rough with him.

Harry was in the unusual predicament of being a father who identified more strongly with his daughter than with his son. He hoped that it was simply a phase, and that he hadn't permanently damaged James, making him incapable of enjoying himself. Because, in Harry's opinion, the boy didn't smile nearly enough. Only much later would Harry absorb the fact that his son was an exact replica of himself at the same age. He had been sullen, withdrawn, and hadn't had anything to smile about.

That evening, as he sat in the parlor after dinner with his son asleep in his arms, he worried about his life. He felt the magnitude of the family around him. So many marriages, births…so much love. He couldn't comprehend how so many wonderful people came to be in the same family, when in his own experience, he had been the only non-horrible member of his immediate family.

Over the years, he had occasionally entertained the notion that he had fallen in love with, and then married, Ginny in a subconscious attempt to become a Weasley. Perhaps this was true, but Harry happened to know for a fact that he was deeply in love with his wife. It wasn't the same kind of love they had experienced when they were young and just married. That had been very physical, and he supposed, somewhat shallow. Now, he felt like he had a spiritual partner in his wife…He was suddenly disgusted with the banality of his thoughts and tried to think of something less profound.

The weight of his son's drooling head on his shoulder drew his thoughts again to his children. It seemed that ever since the day Ginny told him they could expect to have a baby, he couldn't think long on anything else. Always, he worried about one child or the other: about their school work, their health, their future Quidditch careers. Now he imagined them leaving for Hogwarts and he felt a lump form in his chest.

Since Dumbledore died, thinking of Hogwarts was doubly painful. Now, completely reluctantly, Harry recalled his funeral. It seemed like half of the Wizarding world showed up in support. It had been outdoors to account for all the people, and Harry remembered how it had been such a beautiful day. The fluffy white clouds had reminded him painfully of Dumbledore's beard. McGonagall had asked Harry to give a eulogy, and he had given a short and controversial speech in which, after recollecting that Dumbledore had been like a father to him, he simply stated, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" The Prophet had alternately called him a lunatic and completely inappropriate and disrespectful, but Harry couldn't think of anything more appropriate. In the end, people put it down as an inside joke and Harry was allowed his private grief, however bizarre it seemed to others.

After nine o'clock, the family units began dispersing. Percy's family was the first to go, then Bill and Fleur with their small daughter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went up to bed, allowing the others to show themselves out. Fred entertained the children for as long as they could stay awake, but after Julius (going into his fifth year at Hogwarts) dropped off, Fred Disapparated and George and Katie followed suit. It was finally just the four old friends alone in the room, their assorted children sleeping on the floor or the sofa. They conversed for hours about their separate problems and interests until Teddy woke up at a particularly loud guffaw by Ron and they all decided to go home. Ginny was the last one to step into the fireplace to travel home. She glanced around the room at her parent's artifacts and her old schoolbooks, and she was filled with sincere longing to be just like her parents when she was older: surrounded by loving family and great friends. 'Well', she thought, 'I'm on the right track.'


End file.
